


Personal Assistant

by montecarlos



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Racing, Romance, personal assistant au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-22 17:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6087541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The definition of a personal assistant is to assist a specific person with their daily business or personal tasks. </p><p>When Lewis agreed to be Sebastian Vettel's PA three years ago, he didn't remember fetching him coffee at three in the morning and kissing his boss was in his contract.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> I'm excited to be putting the first part of this fic up, it's split into two parts because I'm still writing it and it stands at 15k. I have a soft spot for PA fic and I wanted to see if I could write a fic without Brocedes becoming the main focus point and I feel I've succeeded with this.  
> A few things; this fic is set in 2010 and follows that season more or less to the letter. However, as Lewis is Sebastian's PA, I decided to put Nico into Lewis's place in 2010 and make him drive for McLaren for the sake of the story. I also made Sebastian probably more of a 'Lewis' character with him going out partying with girls but hey, baby Seb was probably into parties. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Lewis hears the familiar buzz of his work phone and sighs heavily, swiping a hand over his tired eyes as he shifts around in his bed to grab it from the side. He grabs his glasses from the side and slips them on, the world slowly coming into focus. He swipes the lock-screen and feels the urge to groan when he sees his bosses name illuminated on the alerts.  It’s one am in the morning and he’s supposed to be up at seven ready for press duty. They’re in Malaysia of all places, the sweat is dripping down Lewis’s shirt, the heat is making his hair frizz up and the sweat stick to his forehead. He tries not to think about the itinerary for the next few days – tries not to think about all the interviews he has to drag his boss to.  It’s a hard life being a Formula One driver’s PA – when he first started, he thought it would be private jets and champagne, but this lifestyle was far from the truth. It was late nights, long hours, making sure that his boss was tucked up in bed and up in the morning ready for his press interviews, the only champagne that Lewis seemed to get was a quick swig when Sebastian won his races.  
  
From: Sebastian  
Will you please get me a skinny latte? :)  
  
Lewis sighs and taps into google the nearest Starbucks – his boss has a habit of doing things like this, like calling Lewis in the middle of the night because he really wants doughnuts, or to tell Lewis that the girl he’s taken back to his room really wants room service and if he could bring them a McDonalds. He loves Sebastian and he loves working for the man (his salary isn’t half bad either.) but there’s times that Sebastian forgets that Lewis is only his PA, not his go-to guy. Lewis stands in the line for Starbucks, worrying one of his fingernails before he places his order – he orders himself a caramel latte with extra syrup and uses Sebastian’s golden credit card. He figures that if Sebastian is going to drag him out of bed at this hour, he’s going to make him pay for the coffee to keep Lewis awake. He pulls his cardigan tighter around himself to keep the cold out.  


* * *

  
  
“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver,” Sebastian says, smiling widely as Lewis passes him the steaming hot cup.  
  
“Yet, you’re still an arsehole,”  
  
“Someone has to be, right?” Sebastian winks.  
  
Lewis raises an eyebrow. “You are aware that you have to be up at 7am right? You have press duty,”  
  
Sebastian waves a hand away. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there-“  
  
“I swear to god, if we have a repeat of Abu Dhabi, you’re going to have to look for a new assistant-“ Lewis says darkly.  
  
“Abu Dhabi wasn’t that bad, Lew-“ Sebastian says, shaking his head.  
  
“You ended up jumping into the pool from your balcony, you could have broken your legs-“  
  
“In my defence, I was highly, _highly_ , intoxicated,” Sebastian says. Lewis opens his mouth but Sebastian silences him with a finger. He presses it to Lewis’s lips, smiling widely. “Relax, Lew-Lew, it’s fine, I’ll even set three alarms to be ready,”  
  
“Well, enjoy your drink,” Lewis says, feeling the blush spread over his cheeks as Sebastian moves his finger away. “And don’t be up too late,” He says, turning on his heel and walking away.

 

* * *

  
  
Lewis ends up leaning on his balcony, staring over the skyline of Malaysia, allowing the breeze to brush over his face. He can’t go back to sleep, the coffee cup still clutched in his fingers, the taste of caramel still on his tongue.  He wonders how he ended up as Sebastian’s PA, he wasn’t expecting to be with the man for so long – Sebastian Vettel had an infamous record of getting through PA’s like they were hot dinners, he’d stopped employing female ones after the last one had filed a sexual harassment case against him. But somehow, three years have passed since Lewis began working for Sebastian - in the beginning, it was different, when Sebastian was driving for Toro Rosso – but now he’s driving for Red Bull and everyone seems to want to interview him – the New Schumacher they call him. He’s yet to win his first Championship – he came second last year, but this year feels different – Lewis can feel the change, he knows Sebastian is ready for it.  
  
Lewis moves back into his hotel room, places his empty cup into the bin and lays down on his bed, trying to get back to sleep. He curls under the comforter for a moment, cursing the heat of the Middle East, he loves exploring new countries, but the heat is something he has never gotten used to. He slowly sinks into sleep after a moment, his eyelids still closing.  


* * *

  
  
Lewis feels his mouth drop to the floor when Sebastian is ready and waiting in the hotel foyer at 7am on the dot. He looks chipper as always, already clothed in his Red Bull t-shirt ready for press duty.  
  
“Good morning,” Sebastian says, grinning. “Isn’t it a lovely day to do press work, Lew?”  
  
“Did you even sleep, Seb?” Lewis asks, narrowing his eyes.  
  
“I may have snatched a couple of hours here and there,” Sebastian says. “So what’s the plan today, chief?”  
  
“Well, you have an interview with the BBC at 8am, then at 10am, Christian has scheduled your pit walk, he also wants you to have a few photographs taken with the car. After lunch, Sky want to interview you and Mark and Christian wants a briefing at 6pm this evening,” Lewis says, barely glancing up from his phone.  
  
“This is why I hired you,” Sebastian says as they climb into the waiting car.  
  
“You wouldn’t survive two minutes without me,” Lewis says. “You’d turn up at the interview wearing nothing but your Ferrari onesie,”  
  
Sebastian laughs, smiling at Lewis. “I think I could get dressed without your assistance,”  
  
“But would the girls stay if you had nobody to order them room service?” Lewis says with a smile.  
  
“Touche, Hamilton,” Sebastian says as the car starts up.  


* * *

  
  
Lewis watches Sebastian talk to Tom Clarkson, the dictaphone clasped in his hands as Sebastian leans back in his chair, answering questions about his title fight, about his hopes for the race in Malaysia.  
  
“I’m hoping to be on the podium, I don’t think that’s an unrealistic target really,” Sebastian says, smiling widely.  
  
 Lewis shakes his head as he watches his boss in his element – Sebastian always said he hates the press interviews but he makes them look easy, he plays his part of likeable but passionate driver extremely well. He presses his blonde hair back from his face and Lewis finds himself looking away – he’s nursed a secret crush on Sebastian since the day he met him, back when Sebastian was a kid himself, when he had messy hair and Lewis had braces and he was fresh out of college and wasn’t sure what he wanted to do in life.  
He never intended to stay more than a year – but the pay was good and Sebastian was extremely good at his job, making Lewis’s job even busier. The more races that Sebastian began to win, the more offers for interviews and photoshoots flooded in.  Lewis found a year passed him by, then another as Sebastian got a promotion and he and Lewis began wearing the navy of Red Bull. Lewis found himself by Sebastian’s side whenever he entered the paddock and the fans soon began to recognise him as a permanent figure in the blonde’s life. It wasn’t until a year ago that the feelings that Lewis had began to resurface once again but he buried them for the sake of his job – after all, Sebastian was straight – he had a beautiful blonde girl in his hotel room most nights, and he was Lewis’s _boss_. He was off-limits, Lewis told himself.  
  
“I’m not looking for a relationship right now-“ Sebastian says, biting his lip. Lewis looks up, shaking himself free of his thoughts. Sebastian hates personal questions and usually gives a cryptic answer, so it’s surprising for him to even remotely answer a question relating to his love life. “I’m so busy with my career at the moment, it would be unfair,”  
  
Tom hums under his breath. “But we’ve heard so many stories-“  
  
“Yes, well, thankfully, my wonderful PA manages to keep all those under wraps,” Sebastian says with a wink. Lewis feels the blush dance over his cheeks again and busies himself with the dictaphone.  


* * *

  
  
Sebastian disappears off during lunchtime with the interviewer with the huge tits and the bleach blonde hair – exactly Sebastian’s type. Lewis scarves down a ham and cheese sandwich in between trying to organise Sebastian’s calendar for the next race session in two weeks.  
  
“Well, actually, 3pm would be better-“ He says, glancing at his spare Blackberry – the one he uses to programme all of Sebastian’s engagements into, he fiddles with the stylus for a moment. “Well, Mr Vettel is a very busy person- I understand that you have your own schedules but Mr Vettel has had this photoshoot scheduled for a very long time,” He fights the urge to roll his eyes, half of his sandwich lying forgotten on the side. “Well, then, if you have a problem with that time, I’d urge you to contact Mr Vettel personally – well, I’m not going to give you his personal number, Sir. Call me back when you’ve thought about the offer-“ He huffs, hanging up.  
  
“Boy, I forgot how scary you are when you’re in PA mode,” A familiar voice pipes up. Lewis whips around to see Sebastian leaning in the doorway, still dressed in his Red Bull overalls. “You’re terrifying,”  
  
“Well,” Lewis says, placing his phone down on the table and pushing a hand through his hair. “He wanted to interview you whilst you have the Pepe Jeans photoshoot and that is not happening, it took me ages to get that photoshoot sorted and I’m not having it ruined for some idiot who wants to ask you why you love Schumacher so much and how the chassis is,”  
  
Sebastian lets out a laugh.  
  
“What?” Lewis says, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“You pretty much summed up every interview I’ve had so far,” Sebastian laughs as he collapses into the chair next to Lewis, eyeing up the remainder of his sandwich. “Are you going to eat that?”  
  
Lewis follows his boss’s glance over to his half-eaten sandwich and shakes his head. “I’ve done with it, knock yourself out,”  
  
Sebastian gives him a wide smile and grabs the sandwich, putting his long legs up on the desk in front of him. “So how many more interviews did you put into my calendar today then?”  
  
“I’ve got a few pencilled in for next week, also, Rocky called and said he wants a chat with you tomorrow morning,” Lewis says, rubbing one of his eyes behind his glasses.  
  
“About what?” Sebastian says, his mouth full of ham.  
  
Lewis shrugs. “I don’t know, the meaning of life? What kind of oil they’re putting in your tank? If you’re going to wear a pink helmet at some point this season?”  
  
Sebastian snorts, the smile curving over his mouth. “I knew I kept you as my PA for a reason,”  
  
“Nobody else would run out at six in the morning for Starbucks,” Lewis fires back.  
  
“Maybe if I paid them as much as I pay you,” Sebastian says, winking.  
  
“I could earn a lot less and still be in bed at 9am. By the way, do you need any dinner reservations making? A strip club number?”  
  
“I think we’re good,” Sebastian says, winking.  


* * *

  
  
Sebastian secures third place and pulls himself out of his Red Bull, throwing a quick wave over to the crowd before he disappears into the holding room, ready to take his place on the podium. Lewis finds a smile working its way across his face as he prepares his dictaphone. He finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from the large screen, from Sebastian’s wide smile as he stands next to Nico and Mark, beaming away with his champagne in one hand. Lewis hopes he doesn’t say anything that undoes his hard work but Sebastian manages to behave himself, yelling widely to the crowd sending them into an array of cheers. Lewis immediately grabs his notebook and a couple of bottles of water as he moves towards the media paddock, waiting for Sebastian to appear.  
The blonde soon arrives in the paddock, smiling widely at Lewis as he slides on his mirrored sunglasses. Lewis passes him the bottle of water which he smiles at gratefully, before taking a huge sip.  
  
“You’re a lifesaver,” He says, wiping his mouth afterwards.  
  
“I know,” Lewis says, glancing down at his notebook. “So I figured out Sky are hovering around on that side, BBC are down the middle, there’s an Italian news channel over there if you-“  
  
“You really like me to earn my money don’t you, Hamilton?” Sebastian says, moving towards the journalists who brighten at the sight of him. Lewis resists the urge to roll his eyes as they move up to the barriers, Sebastian easily falling into conversation.  
  
Lewis watches him, unable to keep the smile from his face.  


* * *

  
  
“Hey, are you staying in Sepang for a few days?” Sebastian asks him after they’re heading back to the Red Bull motorhome. He’s still dressed in his racing overalls, the collar slightly popped, the sweat slowly drying making his blonde hair curl against his forehead.  
  
Lewis hums. “I’m not sure yet, I have a lot of press work to sort out back in Switzerland, are you staying longer? Do I need to book another hotel? Extend the room you have?”  
  
“Lewis,” Sebastian laughs, his hand moving out to curl around Lewis’s thin wrist. “Just stop for a moment,”  
  
“I can’t stop, Seb,” Lewis says, glancing down at the pale fingers curled around his dark skin. “I need to book the hotel if you plan on staying a day or two and you have a photoshoot in Italy on Wednesday so-“  
  
“Lewis,” Sebastian’s pale blue eyes burn into him. “Relax for a minute, I just…I wondered if you wanted a day or two off,”  
  
“Day off? Seb, you haven’t given me a day off since I started working for you-“  
  
“Well,” Sebastian says, looking down at his shoes, his fingers moving away from Lewis’s wrist. “I just wondered if you wanted some holiday,”  
  
“I have too much to do,” Lewis says, trying not to glance into the bright blue eyes. “Thank you for the offer, maybe I’ll take you up on that in the summer break,”  
  
“That’s quite a long way away,” Sebastian teases.  
  
“Well, would you rather I take three years worth of holidays right now? I might as well get you a new PA for the rest of the year,” Lewis levels the blonde with a look.  
  
“I suppose you’re right,” Sebastian says.  
  
“I’m always right,” Lewis replies, tucking away the dictaphone. “By the way, you still have that dinner reservation at 7,”  
  
“Cancel it,” Sebastian says. “I fancy catching up on my sleep,”  


* * *

  
  
Lewis ends up working through the next couple of weeks back in Switzerland, hopping back to Austria to help Sebastian with a few interviews at the Red Bull headquarters. He feels the tiredness seep into his bones, he has to work out another itinerary, Christian had scheduled a few interviews forgetting that Sebastian would be in China by then. Sebastian flies out to China a few days before Lewis, Lewis tied up in some bad press regarding Mark and Sebastian resulting in a few sleepless nights whilst they try and limit the damage.  
  
Lewis ends up flying out to China, business class – Sebastian had insisted, after the farce of the last week, but Lewis doesn’t get to enjoy it, he spends the entire eight hours or so fast asleep against the leather seat, his glass of wine remains full. His phone starts buzzing the second he steps into the terminal and switches it on, there’s a few messages from Christian but most of them are from Sebastian. He ignores them as he moves towards the baggage area, ready to collect his suitcase. The carousel has barely started moving when his phone begins blaring.  
  
“Hello, Lewis Hamilton, how can I help?” He says, not bothering to check the number.  
  
“Do you always answer your phone like that?” Sebastian’s playful voice filters through his ear.  
  
“Have you heard of a thing called sleep? It’s almost ten in the evening-“ Lewis says, shaking his head.  
  
“Well, I’m here to pick you up,” Sebastian says. “I was going to suggest we go to Hong Kong for the night, but I knew you would never go for that-“ He pauses for a moment. “So I was going to ask you if you wanted to go out to dinner?”  
  
Lewis feels the blush spread over his cheeks and the words hang in his mouth. “I….I really shouldn’t-“  
  
“You really should, you’ve worked your little ass off this last week and what kind of boss would I be if I didn’t buy you dinner?”  
  
Lewis sighs heavily, knowing it’s no use in arguing against the blonde. His suitcase drift past him on the conveyor belt. “I have to go,” He says, ending the call as he pulls his suitcase off the belt.  


* * *

  
  
Sebastian has parked his Porsche in a no-parking area outside the airport and has a wide grin painted on his face when he spots Lewis walking through the double doors.  
  
“I made reservations at Hakkasan,” Sebastian says, smiling.  
  
Lewis raises an eyebrow. “You made a reservation? Like you actually called the place and booked a table?”  
  
“See, I’m not completely useless-“ Sebastian says, shaking his head. “I honestly thought you’d say no,”  
  
“It’s free food, I never say no to free food,” Lewis says, smiling as he slides into the passenger seat.  


* * *

  
  
Sebastian and Lewis end up crammed into a little booth, eating sweet and sour and crispy duck with the small wooden chopsticks they were given.  
  
“This tastes so good,” Lewis says through a mouthful of noodles. “I lived off sandwiches in Switzerland,”

“I’m sorry that you had to stay behind and sort all that stuff out for me,” Sebastian says, glancing up at the older man.  
  
Lewis waves a hand away as though to dismiss the blonde. “It’s okay, I’m only doing my job,”  
  
“But you’re always doing your job, Lewis,” Sebastian’s eyes are fixed on him.  
  
“Look, I don’t want to talk about work anymore alright? Lewis says, picking up some more noodles with his chopsticks. “I feel like I could sleep for weeks,”  
  
“Well, if you want to take that holiday,” Sebastian smirks, Lewis shakes his head. “By the way, do you want more wine?”  
  
“I shouldn’t, we have interviews tomorrow,” Lewis says as Sebastian fills up his glass.  


* * *

  
  
Lewis isn’t sure how much wine they drink between them, he just remembers Sebastian pressing his American Express into the waiter’s hand and staggering over to the taxi – he doesn’t remember falling into Sebastian’s room, falling into the soft sheets, Sebastian’s laugh enveloping around him.  
  
He doesn’t wake up until the next morning, his mobile phone angrily blaring at him. He answers it quickly, pressing a hand over his eyes. “Hello?”  
  
“Lewis, where is Sebastian? He was supposed to be at this press conference ten minutes ago!” Christian’s voice is angry. Lewis swears, glancing down at his watch and cursing as he slips on his glasses. He ends the call and glances around the room, confusion brushing over his features. It’s not his hotel room, he slips out of the bed, cursing Sebastian and the eight or so glasses of wine he must have had, the headache still sweeping over his temples as he pulls on his t-shirt. He spots a familiar shock of blonde hair sticking out of the white sheets.  
  
“Sebastian-“ He whispers as he moves forward, to shake the Formula One driver awake. Sebastian hates waking up, he groans, burying his head into the fluffy pillow as Lewis calls his name out again.  
  
“Sebastian! You were supposed to be at the press conference ten minutes ago! We have to move it!” He moves away to pull on his jeans, cursing – he won’t have time to change into his Red Bull press uniform.  “Come on, you have to do your job,”  
  
Sebastian groans once more before he sits up – his blonde hair is mussed and there’s still sleep clinging to his eyelids. “Wha-“  
  
“Chinese Grand Prix, driver’s press conference?” Lewis says as he steps into his trainers.  
  
“It’s fine, relax,” Sebastian says, waving his hand away. “Christian will just make Mark go in my place,” He brushes a hand through his hair.  
  
Lewis grits his teeth in anger. “Yeah, its okay, Christian will get you a new press officer to fill my place for making his driver late for his duties,”  
  
“Christian can’t get rid of you, I employ you,” Sebastian says as he steps out of the bed and begins pulling on a fresh Red Bull shirt. He glances at himself in the mirror, pushing down a very rebellious blonde curl that is sticking up. “Don’t worry about Christian, I’ll sort him out,”  
  
Lewis sighs exasperated. “Can you put some pants on? We have a race to get to,”  
  
“You weren’t saying that last night,” Sebastian says, winking. Lewis feels his cheeks burn bright red. “I’m kidding,” The blonde continues, smile flicking over his lips at the pink colour of Lewis’s cheeks.  


* * *

  
  
“What on earth were you thinking going to some Chinese restaurant and getting drunk at eleven in the evening? You knew the press duties started at 8am!” Christian yells, his face bright red.  
  
“I’m sorry, Mr Horner,” Lewis says, feeling like a naughty child who has been sent to the headmaster. “He wanted to drive to Hong Kong –“ He pauses as Christian snorts and shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to allow him to oversleep and miss his press duties,”  
  
“I’m sorry-“  
  
“Where were you anyway? Why weren’t you ready on time? It’s not like you, Hamilton, to miss a press conference,” Christian says, his face still red with anger.  
  
“I had a few too many glasses of wine with Sebastian last night, I was asleep in his bed when you called-“  
  
“You were in his bed?” Christian says, the smirk immediately curling over his lips. “I didn’t know that you and he were-“  
  
“We’re not,” Lewis says, a little too quickly. “We’re just…I mean, he’s my _boss_ ,”  
  
“Look, whatever goes on between you two, I don’t care as long as Sebastian isn’t too exhausted to drive my car around into pole position,” Christian says.  
  
Lewis watches him leave, his mouth wide open.  


* * *

  
  
Sebastian ends up coming sixth. He conducts his usual interviews and ends up disappearing afterwards, shooting out to some club. Lewis sighs heavily before he places his phone away and sinks into the sheets of his bed. Sleep seems to take over fairly quickly, Lewis doesn’t even have time to change out of his press clothes before his eyes slide closed. Somewhere, across the other side of the city, Sebastian cheers wildly, his arms wrapped around two scantly-clad blonde girls, a cocktail in one hand. Sixth place isn’t much to celebrate, but it hardly matters to the blonde, his head spinning, his tongue heavy with alcohol.  
  
He pulls out his phone and glances through his contacts with foggy eyes. He pauses over Lewis’s name and hesitates before one of the girls giggles against his ear, her scarlet fingernails dancing over his t-shirt. He smiles widely, downing the rest of his drink.  He never calls Lewis, not even when he ends up back to his hotel suite with one of the girls, her hand clasped around his waist, his kisses gently brushing against her face.  


* * *

  
  
It’s beautiful in Spain that weekend – Lewis however, doesn’t get to appreciate the weather as he’s locked in a meeting with a couple of Red Bull’s media advisors. The sunshine is shining through the windows as they bleat on about new marketing strategies, how to placate both drivers and make them both happy. Lewis tries to look interested and struggles not to text Sebastian and bitch at him for giving him a job and forcing him, essentially, to sit through this nonsense.  
  
His phone buzzes from a new message.  
  
From: Sebastian  
Hello, this driver’s conference with Bernie is about as interesting as watching paint dry :(  
  
Lewis rolls his eyes and carefully taps out an answer, careful to make sure Mark’s advisors don’t see him.  _We could swap jobs if you want? I’ll drive your car around and you can listen to Jeff whine on about how difficult his job is.  
  
_ The reply from Sebastian is almost instantaneous.  
  
From: Sebastian  
Sure thing, I’d love to see your face when you try turn on the engine :)  
  
Lewis resists the urge to sigh before he quickly types back.  
  
_I’d love to see your face when I show you how much paperwork you actually accumulate over a week_.  
  
Sebastian replies quickly but Lewis is dragged out of his daydreams by Jeffrey posing him a question about his plans for Sebastian’s marketing strategy over the year. Lewis looks down at his notes and ignores the little doodles on the side, he feeds Jeff some lines that they aim to pick up on the European market with a primary focus on the German Grand Prix in the absence of Schumacher. The press officers seem to look impressed by his speech and they quickly wrap up the rest of the meeting. Lewis doesn’t see Sebastian’s response until he leaves the office a few hours later.  
  
From: Sebastian  
  
I’d just like to see your face. I miss it.  
  
Lewis feels the blush dance over his cheeks at Sebastian’s words.  


* * *

  
  
“So what’s your favourite Spanish food?” Sebastian whispers to Lewis. The third free practise is about to start in an hour and Sebastian is dressed up in his overalls ready to jump in his car but he’s content in wandering around the paddock, making Lewis follow him around, shaking his head at the blonde who is unable to keep still.  
  
“Paella, of course, what’s yours?” Lewis says, the sunshine warming his face.  
  
“Hmmm, I’d say churros,” Sebastian says absent-mindedly. “I know an amazing place that does them just right around the corner from here,”  
  
“Does Christian know you stuff your face with churros before a race?” Lewis asks, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“No,” Sebastian says, smiling. “That’s going to be our little secret,”  
  
Lewis shakes his head unable to keep the smile off his face. “Got anymore secrets that I need to know?”  
  
“I’m Superman?” Sebastian cuts in as he watches one of the McLaren drive past him into the pits. “You can’t tell anyone though,”  
  
“Your secret is safe with me,” Lewis says, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Now, don’t you think you better earn that money that Christian pays you and get your helmet on?”  
  
“If I can find it,” Sebastian smirks.  
  
“I’m not ordering you another new helmet, not after you threw the last one out of your balcony windows-“  
  
“They put the German colours in the wrong order,” Sebastian says, folding his arms and pouting. “What was I supposed to do?”  
  
“Called me and I’d have sent it back,” Lewis says, watching the garage work on Sebastian’s car. “You call me for anything else,”  
  
He pretends to ignore Sebastian’s hurt look as Christian calls out for his driver. Lewis watches Sebastian strap up the collar of his overalls and pull on his helmet, he gives Lewis a little wave as he slides into the cockpit of his car. Lewis feels the smile slide over his face as Sebastian’s car flies out of the garage and down the pit lane.  


* * *

  
  
Sebastian ends up coming third in the race and the celebrations continue even after the usual podium and champagne event which always sends Sebastian into fits of hysterics. Lewis hovers over by the podium waiting for Sebastian to arrive ready for his post-race interviews. He feels champagne slop over his shirt, over his VIP pass and glances up, his lips curved up in a snarl, only to see Sebastian standing on the podium, his magnum of champagne pointed in Lewis’s direction.  The champagne is sticky against Lewis’s skin as he gives Sebastian a forced smile, shaking his head as the blonde dances over to Mark and deposits the remainder of the bottle on the Australian’s head.  
  
Sebastian’s celebrations don’t end there, he ends up partying well into the night, going to some nightclub in the centre of Barcelona – all bright lights and pumping bass. Lewis has a few drinks, but he’s got an early morning flight back to Switzerland to discuss some press business for the Austrian Grand Prix. He sips from the bright blue cocktail that had been placed in his hands and sighs heavily, trying to nurse the beginnings of a headache. He downs the rest of his drink and turns to leave the nightclub, only for a warm hand to close around his wrist. He looks up into cloudy blue eyes.  
  
“You’re not leaving are you?” Sebastian slurs, his eyes are glassy and unfocused.  
  
“I have an early morning flight tomorrow-“ Lewis says, trying not to look at the blonde. “You have enough people here to drink with, Seb,”  
  
“But it’s boring without my favourite person here,” Sebastian pouts – like full on pouts – his hand still curled around Lewis’s wrist. “Just book another flight on my credit card, I don’t mind-“  
  
“It’s an important meeting, Seb,” Lewis says, trying not to smile at the blonde’s pout. Sebastian looks adorable when he’s drunk, Lewis pushes away his feelings.  
  
“Okay, fine,” Sebastian slurs. “Be boring, I’ll have fun with the other fun people here then,” His fingers slide away from Lewis’s wrist. Lewis says nothing else, he knows Sebastian is drunk in that moment and that it’s the alcohol talking. He begins the short walk back to his hotel, intent on getting a few hours sleep before his early morning flight. However, Sebastian seems intent on making sure that Lewis never sleeps again – or that’s what Lewis think when he’s roused at around five in the morning by his phone blaring out. He shoves on his glasses and pushes a hand through his hair.  
  
“Hello?” He says, voice still full of sleep.  
  
“Lewis?” Sebastian’s voice, still very much intoxicated, filters into his ear. “Lew, I need your help,”  
  
Lewis sighs heavily. “What’s the matter?”  
  
“I’m not sure where I am,” Sebastian admits. “I think I’m back in my hotel room but I invited a bunch of people back here and they look like they’ve trashed it-“  
  
Lewis rubs a hand over his face as he pulls himself out of his bed to shove on his nearest cardigan. “How badly are we talking?”  
  
“I think it’s better for you to see it,” Sebastian says quietly.  
  
“I’ll be over in two minutes,” Lewis says, shoving his bare feet into his Pumas.  


* * *

  
  
The hotel room is trashed for lack of a better word – the curtains are torn away from the pole, the pillows have been ripped apart, there’s empty beer bottles everywhere, an expensive glass smashed on the floor. There’s clothes torn all over and the duvet is torn in two places – but there’s still two blonde girls fast asleep underneath it. Sebastian shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, he’s bare-chested, his pale skin littered with bruises and lovebites curling around his neck and it hurts Lewis to see them – to see Sebastian’s skin marked in such a way. He’s dressed in a pair of pyjama bottoms, his hair is still mussed and wild, his skin is pale.  
  
“I’m sorry,” He says quietly. “I didn’t know who else to call, I guess things got a little out of hand-“  
  
“Out of hand?” Lewis says, trying to keep his voice level. “You call this out of hand?”  
  
“I’m sorry, it’s okay, we can pay the hotel damages off-“ Sebastian begins.  
  
Lewis waves his hand away as though to dismiss Sebastian’s words. “It’s not about the damages. It’s like…do you even respect what I do?”  
  
“Of course, I do,”  
  
“It doesn’t seem like it, Seb,” Lewis says, swiping a hand through his hair. “I’m your PA, your press officer and I will do anything for you, but this is getting ridiculous. You’re not eighteen anymore, you’re throwing random parties at your hotel room, you’ve thrown a bunch of bottles out of your window that smashed all over the pavement, the paps have got hold of a few drunken photos of you leaving the club with those girls-“ He casts an critical eye over the still sleeping girls. “So excuse me that I’m not in the greatest mood this morning when I have another PR scandal to sort out and my flight is in three hours and I’ve had about two hours sleep,”  
  
“I’m sorry, Lewis, I’m sorry that I’m making more work for you-“ Sebastian begins.  
  
“You know how I’d know you were truly sorry? If you stop pulling stupid stuff like this, Seb, go out and have fun by all means, but you don’t need to invite a scandal every time you do so, I don’t like getting my arse ridden by Christian every time you decide to stumble out of a bar in the early hours of the morning-“  
  
“Lew-“  
  
Lewis sighs heavily, biting his lip. “I’m sorry, I don’t have time for your excuses right now. I’ll go and speak to the manager and try iron this out before I go for my flight,” He says as Sebastian grabs hold of his wrist again, his thumb stroking over the soft skin.  
  
“You…you’re not going to quit are you?” Sebastian says in a small voice.  
  
“I have to go and sort this out, Seb,” Lewis says, pulling his wrist free and walking out of the ruined room.  


* * *

  
  
Lewis doesn’t hear from Sebastian at all over the two weeks before the next race in Monaco, he seems to keep his head down, barely out in the nightclubs. Lewis still has to attend meetings regarding press issues in Switzerland and he has to drive past Sebastian’s house every time, but it’s as though the German has dropped off the face of the planet. Lewis has significantly less press matters to deal with so he busies himself in the evenings curled up with his dog and the newest season of The Walking Dead. It feels good, Roscoe’s warmth curling over his stomach as he watches the latest episode, his phone silent for once. It’s not until he falls asleep halfway through the episode and wakes up the next morning at a reasonable time that he realises that he misses Sebastian.  
  
Sebastian seems to keep his distance at Monaco, which is a pain in the arse for Lewis, because press-wise, Monaco is the worst circuit, the photographers and the interviewers seem to swarm the drivers with questions. Sebastian seems to disappear away into the crowd, swallowed up by the press. Lewis has to fight his way through the press to get to Sebastian who doesn’t even look at him. He barely seems to acknowledge Lewis throughout his entire track walk, suddenly interested in following the other drivers around.  
  
“Seb?” Lewis begins.  
  
Light blue eyes fall on him for a moment. “Yes?” Sebastian says, worrying his lip.  
  
“Don’t forget that the BBC have an interview with you in fifteen minutes,” Lewis says, sinking back into his PA role, his dictaphone out, checking on his watch. Sebastian doesn’t say anything else, he merely continues talking to the interviewer in rapid fire German. Lewis feels something hard clench in his chest at Sebastian’s look of indifference.  
  


* * *

  
  
Sebastian ends up coming second in the race to Mark and they celebrate as they always do on the Red Bull charging station – the barge is packed to the rafters full of friends, family, crew and hanger-ons, the music blaring out over the harbour as they celebrate their win. Lewis sits on one of the white cushions, staring into the pool, the red bulls charging at each other are distorted by the various members of the team swimming around in the clear water. He’s got a drink in his hand – one that Christian bought him – something bright blue that he can’t pronounce the name of. He casts his eyes around the barge – he spots Mark walking around with a drink in hand, his shirt is already off, showing off his tanned skin. There’s no sign of Sebastian. Lewis downs his drink quickly, casting his eye over the setting sun – the sky of Monaco is full of pink, lilac and blood orange as the sun slowly bids goodbye to the party. Lewis glances down at his t-shirt, he’s still dry – one of the few people who didn’t jump into the swimming pool after Sebastian and Mark – even Adrian had been thrown in. However, as the sun begins to set, the people seem to disappear. Lewis stands up and moves towards the bridge, placing his glass down on the bar but a warm, familiar hand curls around his wrist.  
  
“You’re leaving already?” Sebastian’s eyes look dark in the dying sunlight. He’s still wearing his overalls, they’re still damp and he smells like chlorine.  
  
“Well, I’m not interested in getting drunk and well, you’ve got other people to talk to-“ Lewis begins but Sebastian swipes his finger over Lewis’s wrist.  
  
“Please, stay.” Sebastian whispers, barely audible over the heavy bass.  
  
“Why?” Lewis says, feeling his heart beat against his ribcage.  
  
“Because I want you to,” Sebastian says, quietly before he moves, tugging Lewis away, down into one of the other rooms on the barge.  
  
“Seb-“ Lewis begins as Sebastian pulls him into one of the rooms.  
  
“Sorry, I wanted to go somewhere quieter. I just…I can barely hear myself think,” Sebastian says, his fingers finally uncurling from around Lewis’s wrist.  
  
“Seb, what’s going on with you?” Lewis says, fixing his glasses.  
  
“I just…I realised how much of a dick I’ve been to you, and like, not just over this weekend, but in general,” Sebastian says, glancing down at the floor. “I guess I’ve been taking you for granted and using you as an emotional punch bag and I’m sorry for that,”  
  
“It’s okay,” Lewis says, shrugging. “I’ve had three years of it, I’m kinda used to it now,”  
  
“But that’s the thing, Lew,” Sebastian says, fixing his blue eyes on Lewis. “I don’t want you to be used to it, I don’t want to cause you any more stress…but at the same time, I don’t want to lose you either. I don’t want to be like the rest of my team…they all get replaced every couple of years, I want to keep you,”  
  
“Seb, it’s not that easy. You honestly make so much work for me and I don’t mind doing it…but it feels like you don’t respect me at all. You just don’t see all the extra hours I spend making sure that the photos of you stumbling out of the club with the blonde girls aren’t splattered all over the papers, or when you say something you shouldn’t say. You only call me when you need something for yourself or for the girls you seem to surround yourself with-“  
  
“You mention me going out with the blonde girls a lot,” Sebastian cocks his head. “Does it make you uncomfortable? Me falling out of clubs with them?” His eyes seem dark blue in the light.  
  
Lewis shakes his head a little too quickly. “Of course not, it’s your life, if you want to do that sort of thing, go ahead-“  
  
Sebastian chuckles, the smile curling at his lips. “Are you jealous?” He jokes.  
  
Lewis goes pale at Sebastian’s words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He says evenly, putting on his best press face. “I have to go,” He turns away, feeling his cheeks burn with blush as he hurries back up the stairs to the party. However, before he can reach the walkway off the barge, Sebastian’s fingers curl around his own – they’re warm and calloused, nothing how Lewis imagined.  
  
“Wait,” Sebastian says, quietly. “Wait, Lew, just listen to me,”  
  
“Seb, just leave me go-“ Lewis says, worrying his lip. “Don’t you think I’ve made enough of a fool of myself today?”  
  
“I was joking about the jealousy thing-“ Sebastian begins.  
  
“I wasn’t,” Lewis whispers, his mouth dry as the words tumble out. “I was jealous of those girls, of them having their hands all over you-“ He pauses for a moment. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business, I just-“  
  
“Lewis,” Sebastian whispers, leaning in closer, his fingers still clasped with Lewis’s. “It’s okay,”  
  
Lewis is about to reply when Sebastian leans in and his lips fold over Lewis’s, almost tentatively – they’re warm and wet and soft and Lewis tries to hold back a moan as Sebastian’s free arm wraps around his waist, pulling their bodies closer together. Lewis feels Sebastian’s wet overalls underneath his fingers, Sebastian’s tongue brushing over his lips and he feels Sebastian’s hand fist over his t-shirt as he deepens the kiss, a groan low in his throat.  
  
“Wanted to do this for so long, I love you,” Sebastian whispers against Lewis’s lips, his hand moving to cup Lewis’s face. Lewis suddenly realises what he’s doing – he’s kissing his _boss_ – he’s kissing his boss on the Red Bull charge station in the middle of Monaco harbour, in the middle of this party – he rips his lips away, panting heavily.  
  
“I can’t,” He whispers, straightening his glasses. “I can’t do this, I’m sorry,”  
  
He all but runs away from Sebastian, ignoring the tingling sensation in his lips.


	2. Champion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis contemplates quitting. Sebastian changes his mind, again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reception on this fic has been pretty incredible so thank you so much for all your comments and lovely messages to me! They are much appreciated! I've had a pretty crap week so your support means a lot to me. ♥♥  
> This is the second (and much longer part), Mark is a bit of a dick in this, Sebastian is also a dick and Lewis is a coward but they're all idiots I love.
> 
> Enjoy!

Lewis doesn’t hear from Sebastian at all after that night, however, the nights out return and with it, Lewis’s job is busy once more as he fights to get Sebastian interviews for convenient times. His phone remains worryingly silent; Lewis ends up on registering his CV on a couple of job searching websites and wondering if he’ll get his last wage – but Christian emails him a copy of the schedule for the Turkish GP. Sebastian messages him a few hours later with an email attachment of his plane ticket to Turkey. Lewis messages back a quick thank you and rushes off to pack his suitcase, his thoughts twisting around in his head, he tries not to think about Sebastian’s lips pressed against his, Sebastian’s eyes fixed on his, Sebastian’s arm around his waist.  
  
He arrives in Turkey a day later than he usually does, missing the driver’s press conference completely, due to a few press issues that needed to be ironed out back in Austria. The weekend starts off as any other does, Mark and Sebastian duel with one another for the coveted top space on the grid through the entire free practise sessions – but Mark manages to put his Red Bull on top when it truly matters, Sebastian regulated to third by Nico’s McLaren.  Lewis stands by Sebastian’s side as they ask him question after question about his starting position and he brushes them all away, wearing a carefree smile and his mirrored sunglasses. Lewis fights the urge to roll his eyes as the press ask question after question about Mark and his and Seb’s relationship but the blonde sweeps them away from a wry smile.

However, the carefree attitude that Sebastian has walking around Turkey soon disappears on lap thirty nine of the race as he moves up, snapping at Mark’s heels – his car edging closer and closer within DRS range of the sister Red Bull. Lewis watches with baited breath in Sebastian’s side of the garage, his headset firmly on as he glances at the screens, worrying the tip of his nail between his teeth. As the pair of them approach turn twelve, Sebastian tries to pull an overtaking move on his teammate only for them to make contact, Mark’s car spins one way and Sebastian’s flies over the slick tarmac, before snapping off into the gravel trap, smoke rolling from his tyres.  
  
“Are you alright?” Lewis hears Christian’s voice filter through the headset. But Sebastian doesn’t answer, he pulls himself out of his smoking car sitting sadly on the gravel, one of the tyres punctured. Lewis bites his lip as he watches Sebastian angrily slam his steering wheel back into the car and walks away. He begins pulling off his gloves as he walks, holding them in one hand as he moves to undo the straps to his helmet. The camera follows him and Sebastian seems to anticipate this, making a small “crazy” gesture before angrily tugging the helmet away from his head and disappearing behind the barriers.  
Lewis can only watch as the image of Sebastian disappears, sighing heavily at all the press work that they’re going to have to do, all because of Sebastian’s gesture in a moment of anger. Sebastian soon arrives back at the pits, holding onto his helmet and ignoring the press who are following him to ask questions. Lewis immediately steps in, pasting his best business face on.  
  
“Sebastian will not be answering questions until we have had time to review the footage and until the close of the race,” He says, tugging on Sebastian’s sleeve to pull him away from the crowd and back to the motorhome.

* * *

  
  
Lewis makes two cups of tea as Sebastian stalks back and forth in the motorhome, still wearing his Red Bull overalls and a look of fury.  
  
“I don’t believe this,” He bristles, his cheeks red with anger. “I did everything by the book and he’s going to hang me out to dry after the race is over and I can’t even defend myself…Christian’s going to kill me because now he’s not going to get the one-two-“  
  
“Seb-“ Lewis begins, sitting down with a cup of tea and sliding the other onto the coffee table. “You just need to calm down-“  
  
“Calm down? Lewis, he hit me! He actually hit me and took me out of the race!” Sebastian snaps.  
  
“I know, and I understand you’re upset-“ Lewis begins.  
  
“How could you possibly understand?” Sebastian says, surveying Lewis with dark eyes. “You’re probably on _his_ side anyway,”  
  
“Are you even listening to yourself?” Lewis finds himself saying, his voice slowly rising. “There’s no side for me to take, Seb. I’m your PA, but you’re making it really hard for me to do my job. I understand that you’re upset, you’ve been taken out of a race you were going to have a podium position in and sure, Mark and Christian aren’t going to be happy but you solve nothing by stepping out of here all guns blazing playing the victim card-“  
  
Sebastian looks down at his shoes. “I know, but he hit me, Lew, he actually ruined my race,”  
  
“I know he did-“ Lewis begins, taking a sip of his tea. “Look, listen to me-“  
  
“Why?” Sebastian’s eyes harden once more. “Why should I listen to you?”  
  
“Because I’m fighting your corner,” Lewis says exasperatedly. “Look, do whatever you want, go and talk to the press now if you want, I don’t care anymore,” He says as he stands up and pours his tea down the sink, leaving the motorhome.

* * *

  
  
Lewis isn’t by Sebastian’s side when he talks to the press about the incident but thankfully, Sebastian has mellowed slightly and tries to keep his tone neutral. Lewis hides away in the other motorhome, holding a fresh cup of tea and wearing an old, faded t-shirt – wearing his Red Bull press shirt feels wrong in these circumstances.  
  
“"I'm not very happy now obviously after something like this happening.” Sebastian pauses for a moment, pushing a hand through his blonde hair. “We were all pretty much same conditions, same pace, and I felt I was able to go quicker. I was able to come closer the last two or three laps. I was just trying to get the braking point and suddenly I lost the car. You can see we touched.”  
  
Somebody screams another question at him and Lewis immediately regrets not being at Sebastian’s side. But the blonde shrugs and continues, "I'm not the kind of guy who pushes the fault to one guy. We are a team and we have to respect that."  
  
Lewis turns off the television, surprised at Sebastian’s response. He doesn’t receive any messages from the blonde that evening. He expects it really – like he expects to be woken up the next morning to another press scandal of Sebastian tumbling out of a bar in the early hours of the morning – but he seems to be behaving and Lewis even gets a lie in.

* * *

  
  
Canada looms before them – Lewis spent the last two weeks on unofficial holiday – hardly anybody has emailed him about any sort of Red Bull business, apart from the memo from Christian regarding the Canadian GP schedule which everyone receives. Lewis glances up from his resignation letter, he’s written it out time after time –  
  
_Dear Mr Vettel,  
I regret to inform you that I would like to tender my resignation as your Personal Assistant and Press Manager with immediate effect…_  
  
Lewis looks up from the letter to where his work phone is sitting; it has been strangely silent over the last two weeks, he wonders if they’re sending him his termination of contract letter in the post. Sebastian has been out and about and he’s conducted a couple of interviews – Lewis only knows this because he called afterwards and checked in on Sebastian. Just as he sends the letter to his printer, his phone buzzes and he immediately snatches it up. The message is from Sebastian, but the fluttering in Lewis’s chest soon disappears as he reads the short message.  
  
From: Sebastian  
  
Please find enclosed your booking details for your flight to Canada. Christian has organised a meeting for 4pm on the Thursday and we’re all expected to be there.  
  
There’s no signature, nothing apart from the short message. Lewis sighs as the letter finally falls away from the printer, he signs it quickly and folds it in half, making a note to put it in his luggage, just in case.

* * *

  
  
The meeting it turns out is a rather large intervention conducted by Christian and Adrian, instructing Mark and Sebastian and their press teams to remain cordial to one another. Lewis is sitting next to Sebastian who looks bored and offended that he even has to attend this meeting.  
  
“So, Lewis-“ Christian pipes up. “What is your strategy for containing this situation from your end?”  
  
Lewis bites his lip, fiddling with his papers. “We’re going to take the relaxed approach, we’ve all moved on from this situation and team relations are good, we’re also going to push the idea that what expired after the race on Sebastian’s behalf was merely a moment of agitation and raised tempers,”  
  
Lewis feels Sebastian tense at the side of him, he thinks of the letter folded away in an envelope in the bottom of his bag. Christian, however, smiles widely, looking impressed. “That’s an impressive strategy, Hamilton,” He beams.  
  
“Well, we’re in need of a big publicity boost in a couple of races time from Sebastian’s end, the press will be wanting to see the team falling apart instead of uniting, the emphasis will be on the aftermath of Turkey rather than Canada,” Lewis says, tapping his pen against his paper.  
  
“Unity, I like that idea,” Christian says. “Is it possible to schedule another interview?”  
  
“I can look at Sebastian’s diary, Sir,” Lewis blinks. Sebastian burns away with unadulterated fury by his side.

* * *

  
  
“Unity?” Sebastian spits at Lewis when they end up back at Sebastian’s motorhome. “I can’t believe this, you’re playing right into their hands Lew, and you’re dragging me with you!”  
  
“I am doing what is necessary to keep you here!” Lewis turns around, his eyes flashing dangerously. “You’re making things difficult for yourself!”  
  
“Because you just sat in there and basically told me to play nice-nice with Mark, Lewis!” Sebastian hisses back.  
  
“It’s called compromise, Sebastian,” Lewis fires back. “You can’t go to the press and say he hit you and he’s made you look bad, they’ll just see you as a spoilt brat and he’ll win then,”  
  
“You know,” Sebastian says with narrowed eyes. “You’ve changed since Monaco, do you really hate me that much because I kissed you? Because of what I said?”  
  
“We’re just friends, Sebastian – well, you’re my boss, and I suggest you let me do my job from now on,” Lewis says, turning on his heel and leaving Sebastian staring after him.

* * *

  
  
Sebastian struggles into fourth place, Lewis stands by his side airing questions in the paddock after the race. He can feel Sebastian’s blue eyes focused on him but he doesn’t look at the blonde once, he focuses on the people, on the questions – most of them are about Mark which Lewis quickly dismisses. They wrap up the interviews quickly and Lewis disappears into the crowd, not wanting to be left alone with Sebastian. Sebastian watches him vanish into the crowd and sighs heavily, wondering if he should give the man some space and try and message him later.

* * *

  
   
They’re in Spain again for the European Grand Prix – Valencia is beautiful this time of year, not that Lewis gets to appreciate it – he’s still wrapped up in the press issues of the few previous races – the media seem intent on warping the relationship between Mark and Sebastian, suggesting that Sebastian is getting preferential treatment. Lewis has been up and on the phone for most of the two weeks between the Canadian GP and today – he’s having to fly out a day later than usual due to the large volume of press that he has to deal with. Sebastian and Mark are invited to the driver’s press conference on the day that Lewis is flying out to Valencia, they’ve barely spoken since Canada, since their conversation regarding playing nice with Mark and with the team. Lewis ends up having dinner in the hotel with one of his old friends, Kuba, from karting late at night – he enjoys it, he enjoys falling back into the old conversation.  
  
“So I hear you’re Vettel’s PA? Is he a bit of a diva?” Kuba asks through a mouthful of chicken.  
  
Lewis shrugs, cutting into his steak. “It’s a good job and he’s not what everyone says he is, it’s just the press trying to make him look bad,”  
  
“So he’s never called you at 4am for doughnuts and a carton of orange juice then?”  
  
Lewis shrugs. “A few times, I don’t mind really, most doughnut places deliver to a famous Formula One driver,”  
  
“And you never wanted to go back into it?” Kuba asks, sipping on his coffee.    
  
Lewis thinks about the question for a moment. “Sometimes I do, I do wonder if I’d stayed in karting, if I’d carried on with it,”  
  
“Are you happy doing all this press work?” Kuba says, spearing a piece of broccoli.  
  
“I guess so, yeah, I love my job and I love how busy it keeps me and I love working for Sebastian but I guess-“  
  
“You miss it,” Kuba cuts in, glancing at the dark-skinned man.  
  
Lewis presses a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess I do,”

* * *

  
  
Sebastian ends up blazing through the free practises with ease, smiling widely at the interviewers swarming around him – he behaves himself, speaking only of his support for the team and of Christian’s decisions. Lewis stands by his side, the dictaphone switched on, holding an extra bottle of water for Sebastian as he sweeps through the paddock, answering every questions he’s posed with a wide smile on his face. He gets his car onto pole position and spends a good hour out in the press paddock with his mirrored sunglasses on, discussing how happy he is with the car and with the support from his fans in Spain.

* * *

  
  
Sebastian steps out of his Red Bull, triumphant. He throws his fist up in the air as the mechanics from his side of the garage erupt into loud cheers as he throws himself into their arms, smiling widely. He jumps up and down on the spot, shouting loudly his thanks for their hard work on the car before he turns and disappears off into the holding room. Lewis immediately feels his phone buzz into life as he watches his boss on the large screens displayed around the circuit, playfully joking with Nico and Jenson. Lewis mutes the calls – he wants five minutes to watch Sebastian taking his victory on top of the podium – before he falls straight back into work. He watches as Sebastian pulls on the hat securing his position and stands up onto the top step when his name is called, his arms up in the air in victory. The crowd bay and cheer at his wide smile beaming out, they continue when he lifts the trophy up into the air – his hand on the magnum of champagne before the music even starts playing. He doesn’t shower Lewis or Christian, who are standing at the side of the podium, with the alcohol. He stays on the podium, beaming widely as he empties most of the champagne on Jenson’s head before he takes a well-deserved pull of the bottle afterwards. Lewis feels the smile brush over his lips at the sight of Sebastian up where he belongs on the top step, waving to the adoring crowd. However, it seems to be over quickly with Sebastian following Lewis back to the press paddock for another round of interviews.

* * *

  
  
“I’m tired,” Sebastian says quietly as they’re slowly driven back to the hotel that the team are staying in. Lewis glances up at the blonde for a moment.  
  
“Get used to it,” He replies. “The more races you win, the more interviews you have to do,”  
  
“The only thing I want to do now is go to my bed,” Sebastian says, rubbing at his eyes. “And possibly order some room service,”  
  
“Make sure you don’t order too many churros,” Lewis jokes quietly, he can feel the tiredness seeping into his bones.  
  
Sebastian laughs gently before he continues looking out of the window.

* * *

  
  
“So, I’ll see you on Wednesday morning back in Geneva?” Lewis says as they leave the car and enter the hotel lobby. “We have that big meeting with some other press officers and-“  
  
“You’re leaving already?” Sebastian sounds disappointed.  
  
“Well, I’m assuming you’re going to go up to your room and order your churros and I need to catch some shut eye myself,” Lewis says, worrying his lip.  
  
“Wait,” Sebastian whispers, his voice barely audible. “Can we go to my room and talk? I really want to talk to you about everything-“  
  
“Can this wait, Seb? I’m exhausted, as I’m sure you are-“ Lewis begins.  
  
“Lew,” Sebastian whispers. “ _Please_ ,”  
  
Lewis sighs heavily, his feet betraying him as he follows Sebastian up to his room. It’s beautiful in his room – it’s a penthouse suite – the skyline of Valencia stretching out in the background, out of the double windows.  
  
“What did you need to tell me?” Lewis says.  
  
“I’m sorry-“ Sebastian begins, turning around to face Lewis. “I’m sorry for my behaviour over the last few races – you were only trying to help, trying to do your job and I just have being a complete dick to you-“  
  
“Sebastian, it’s alright – you were agitated because of the situation-“ Lewis begins.  
  
“But it’s not alright, Lewis,” Sebastian says, pacing the floor. “I’ve just been an world class arsehole to you and that’s not okay-“  
  
“Seb, I understand, it’s part of the job-“ Lewis pauses as Sebastian steps forward, his fingers ghosting over Lewis’s cheek.  
  
“I don’t want you to have to cope with my tantrums though, Lew, that’s not part of your job,” Sebastian says quietly. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through…I guess I was angry at the whole situation and I took it all out on you when I shouldn’t have-“  
  
“I know, look, I’m tired, Seb. I want to forget all about this, forget about the last few weeks-“  
  
“I know,” Sebastian says. “Just stay and I’ll order churros,”  
  
“With extra chocolate sauce,” Lewis says.  
  
“Of course,” Sebastian replies, winking.

* * *

  
  
Lewis doesn’t remember much more of that night – he remembers sitting on Sebastian’s bed eating churros, laughing at something the blonde says as he watches him lick the chocolate sauce from his lips. They end up ordering a magnum of champagne – well, Sebastian insists that churros go down better with champagne. Lewis tries to stop the blonde from dropping a hundred euros down the drain but Sebastian waves him away with one hand and orders the large bottle anyway. They end up curled on Sebastian’s bed, side by side, laughing at each other, their tongues tasting of champagne.  
  
“Hey, Lewis?” Sebastian says, glancing at the dark-skinned man. “Could you have predicted that two years ago, we’d be in a penthouse hotel room and I’d have won a race?”  
  
“No,” Lewis slurs, feeling the dizziness wash over him. “You were a baby then and you were always crashing that Toro Rosso, was bloody awful having to deal with all the press-“  
  
“I was not a baby,” Sebastian says, pouting.  
  
“You were,” Lewis replies, smiling. “You still are in some ways, it’s like dealing with a child sometimes but I wouldn’t change it for the world-“ He stops, yawning widely.  
  
“I’m glad,” Sebastian whispers back. “I was a bit scared in the last few races, was waiting for you to tell me that you were quitting, I was scared that I’d lost you and you were going to run off and do press work for Mark instead. I missed you, I missed spending this time with you-“ He pauses, glancing at Lewis, only to find that the brown eyes are hidden beneath closed eyelids, Lewis gently slumbering against the sheets.  
  
It’s only when Sebastian carefully takes off Lewis’s glasses that he notices the dark circles under his eyes and sighs heavily. “You need to take better care of yourself,” He says, softly as to not wake the slumbering man up. “I’m going to make sure of that,” He finishes as he moves the churros off the bed and moves to place the champagne in the fridge before he collapses back on the bed, watching Lewis sleep for a few minutes before his own eyelids close.  


* * *

  
  
“Isn’t this your home crowd?” Sebastian grins as they touch down in Heathrow Airport ready for the British GP. Lewis glances at the blonde, still wearing his mirrored sunglasses as he steps off the plane despite it been overcast. He glances down at Sebastian’s creased attire and baggy grey hoodie – they hadn’t spoken about the night that Lewis had spent in the hotel room, Lewis had woken up way before Sebastian and had crept back to his own room, Sebastian hadn’t mentioned it at breakfast and had chattered away as normal.  
  
“Sort of yes, I haven’t lived in England for years though, I used to live in Woking when I was doing press work for McLaren-“ Lewis says quietly, biting his lip as the bracing wind curls over his cheeks. It’s July – but England is still the cold place that it always is, the gret clouds swirling above them, beckoning the rain forward.  
  
“Do you think it’ll rain this weekend?” Sebastian says, glancing up at the sky, he’s still wearing his bloody sunglasses.  
  
“I think anything could happen at this stage, but you should probably expect rain,” Lewis says, turning on his Blackberry as they walk towards the terminal.  
  
“Good, I like rain, it makes the races even more unpredictable,” Sebastian says, grinning.  
  
“Only you would like the rain, Seb,” Lewis says, shaking his head.

* * *

  
  
Sebastian walks over the tarmac of the track at Silverstone, glancing up at the clouds, still steel-grey gathering over the sky. He watches over a few of the cars out on the track, pulling his jacket closer to himself.  
  
“Why is it so fucking cold here? It’s July,” Sebastian whines under his breath.  
  
Lewis shakes his head. “It’s not that bad, this is pretty warm for England,”  
  
“Doesn’t fucking feel like it, how does everyone survive in these Arctic conditions?” Sebastian continues, bundling his jacket around him.  
  
“Seb, we live in Geneva, it’s not much better than this,”  
  
“It _has_ a summer, Lew,” Sebastian says, glaring at his PA.  
  
Lewis stifles a laugh as they continue walking the length of the pit lane.

* * *

  
  
However, the fun soon sizzles out as everyone has to get down to business and Sebastian is soon strapped into his car and driving around the track at over 180mph, flying into the corners and braking hard and fast, powering up the back straight to gain a little extra strength as he flies into the next series of corners. Lewis watches him on the big screens, tapping his pen against the paper. He remembers when he used to drive around this circuit, back in karting, back before everything went wrong.   
However, the race doesn’t go as smoothly as the beginning of the weekend as Mark forces Sebastian off the track, forcing him to make contact with a McLaren. Lewis watches with baited breath as Sebastian manages to get his Red Bull moving again, albeit, a little more slowly than he would have liked to see.  
  
“I’ve got a puncture,” He hears Sebastian say on the radio as he worries his lip watching the blonde drive back into the pits for a fresh pair of tyres, falling behind the rest of the pack and behind Mark who is leading the race.

 

* * *

  
  
Sebastian limps over the finish line in seventh, he never manages to catch Mark ahead of him, impeded by his extra pit stop. However, he remains chipper and optimistic over his chances, thanking his team over the radio, until Mark says something that shatters the already precaurious situation that Lewis and the other press officers had spent so long burying.  
  
“Not bad for a number two driver,” Mark says into the team radio and Lewis feels the situation implode, biting his lip as he watches Sebastian pull up, unaware of what his teammate has just said.  
  
Lewis hovers around Sebastian as he pulls himself out of the car. “What?” Sebastian says, pulling off his helmet as the crowd seem to cheer loudly as the blonde passes them. “What’s the matter?”  
  
“Mark fucked the entire press relations up,” Lewis whispers under his breath – he’s furious – he and Mark’s press officer did not spend four weeks locked away in Geneva for one of their drivers to throw it away to the last minute. “He’s thrown you to the dogs, Seb,”  
  
“I don’t understand,” Sebastian says quietly.  
  
“Look, I have to brief you now because everyone is going to ask you about it-“ Lewis begins, already panicked by the situation. “Why can’t you just all do as you’re told-“  
  
“Lew,” Sebastian says carefully, grabbing hold of Lewis’s shoulders and stopping the shorter man. “Just calm down for a minute and tell me what Mark said,”  
  
“He said his drive wasn’t bad for a number two driver,” Lewis says, looking down at the floor. “And we have no idea if he’s going to drag you and Red Bull through the mud at the press conference either. I’ve got a feeling that he’s going to tell the press that you are been given preferential treatment-“  
  
“But I’m not-“ Sebastian argues.  
  
“I know that, Seb,” Lewis says quietly, shaking his head. “Look, I’m just saying, just play nice with the press, just play down the idea that there’s got to be a number one and number two driver, just until we can sort this mess out-“  
  
“Aren’t you coming to the paddock with me?” Sebastian asks, wide-eyed.  
  
“I’ll send someone else down to help,” Lewis says, shrugging Sebastian’s hands away. “I really have to deal with this right now, I have to find Mark’s press officer and try limit this damage, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, Seb,”  
  
“It’s okay-“ Sebastian begins but he doesn’t have time to finish as Lewis is quickly running down the corridor to find the other press officers.

* * *

  
  
Christian slams the newspaper down on the desk in front of Sebastian and Mark, his eyes filled with fury, his cheeks bright red.  
  
“What on earth were you thinking Mark? What on earth do you mean that you wouldn’t have signed a contract in 2011 if you’d known how things would turn out?”  
  
“I think you know exactly what that means, Christian,” Mark says, leaning back in his seat, his arms folded.  
  
Christian purses his lips for a moment before he turns to Lewis and Mark’s press officer, Barbara. “How can we limit the damage?”  
  
“We tried from Sebastian’s end,” Lewis says, not raising his eyes from the transcript of Sebastian’s interview earlier that evening with every interviewer. “I informed Sebastian the second he got out of the car and briefed him accordingly. We agreed that Sebastian was not to answer any of the questions regarding the comment made until we all agreed on a collective answer,”  
  
“Of course,” Mark pipes up from his place. “Golden boy saves you again, Sebby,”  
  
Sebastian narrows his eyes. “Have you got a problem with my staff, Mark?”  
  
“I’ve got a problem when you’re been briefed to lie about the team and pretend that you’re not the little golden boy-“  
  
“Mark-“ Christian says in a warning voice.  
  
“Look,” Mark says, holding up his hands as though to surrender. “I’m just stating my opinion, like I did at the press conference,”  
  
“You undid all the hard work of yours and Sebastian’s press teams,” Christian spits, livid. “You have a problem with what we operate, you come to me, you come to Adrian, you don’t go to the cameras,”  
  
“Well, I’m sorry that you don’t like what I did,” Mark says, frowning. “But unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about that now, the words are said, the press conference has been televised, we just have to deal with the fallout, don’t we golden boys?” He says, smirking as he glances over to Sebastian and Lewis.

* * *

  
  
“What a prick!” Sebastian says, pacing backwards and forwards in the room afterwards. “I can’t believe what he did-“  
  
Lewis sighed, pulling off his glasses and setting them on the table next to him. “Seb, just calm down-“  
  
“Calm down? I’ll calm down when that bastard stops being a complete dick to everyone-“  
  
“Please calm down, I can do a lot of things, but I can’t cover up you punching the living daylights out of a colleague, Seb,” Lewis says, pinching his temples to dispel the growing headache.  
  
Sebastian stops and glances at his PA. “You know…after three years of working together, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you without glasses on,”  
  
Lewis feel the blush dance across his cheeks. “Is that a bad thing?”  
  
Sebastian shakes his head. “No, you just look different, that’s all,”  
  
Lewis ducks his head down, swiping his hand through his hair. “Well, can we get back to everything please?”  
  
“Sure,” Sebastian says, watching Lewis carefully. “It’s a good different if you were worried-“  
  
“Sebastian, focus,” Lewis says, the blush once more rising up on his cheeks.  


* * *

  
  
Germany comes and goes by quickly – Lewis is at his busiest as they try to get as much press into Sebastian’s schedule as possible – naturally, all the German programmers want to speak to the new hope – the new Schumacher, as they’re still calling him. Sebastian ends up coming third and he seems to be in his element, speaking rapid-fire German into the microphones one by one as Lewis looks on, smiling widely at the blonde. However, Sebastian’s victory in Germany is overshadowed somewhat by the Ferrari crisis, and Lewis ends up back in his hotel in the city with a hot cup of tea thanking his lucky stars that he and Sebastian don’t work for Ferrari.  
  
Before Lewis can even blink, they’re in Hungary for the last race before the summer break. It’s warm in Hungary as expected and the track is overly dusty as it always is on hot summer days. Mark and Sebastian seem to reignite their battle on the track – both trying to dominate proceedings during the free practise sessions. Lewis watches from the sidelines, worrying one of his fingernails as he watches Sebastian’s car fly around the track. He watches as Sebastian lights up the sectors purple as his shiny Red Bull seems to dance over the tarmac. Lewis feels the smile brush over his face as Sebastian’s name finds its way to the top of the standings. Mark can’t beat the time in the end and has to settle for parking his car behind Sebastian’s. Lewis resists the urge to cheer as he watches Sebastian pull himself back into the garage to have a quick check over things, his shiny car slides back into the garage easily. Lewis glances over at the blonde, his face obscured by his helmet, his eyes watching the screen in front of him, a few of the mechanics are hovering around the car, adjusting the tyres, one of them is blowing cool air into Sebastian’s cockpit. Sebastian ends up climbing out of his car as the pole sitter, he pumps his fist up in the air, smiling widely at the cameras.  
  
However, Sebastian’s smile soon vanishes as the race doesn’t transpire the same way and he finds himself stuck behind Fernando for most of the race and Mark romps to victory with ease. Sebastian feels the sinking feeling brush against his chest as he watches Mark jump into his mechanic's arms, watches the Australian lift his fist up to the air, thank his team profusely for their efforts over the race weekend.  He’s more hurt when he finds out that Christian has organised a huge celebration party – as Mark has taken the coveted Championship leader title back going into the break. Sebastian sighs heavily as he ends up at the party somehow, a drink in his hand, as he watches everyone douse Mark in champagne. The Australian grins widely as his overalls are soaked with sticky champagne, raising his arms as the entire party collapses into cheers.  
  
“Having fun?” A familiar voice pipes up next to Sebastian. He watches as Lewis slides into the seat next to him, wearing his everpresent glasses, cardigan and a glass of something bright blue.  
  
“As much fun as I can have celebrating my teammates win,” Sebastian says, taking a sip of his drink and grimacing. “Not to mention the drinks here are shocking,”  
  
Lewis gives him a small smile. “You want to get out of here?”  
  
Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “It’s not like you to want to leave a party early-“  
  
“Well, if you want to stay here-“  
  
“Stay here whilst everyone kisses Mark’s arse? No, thank you,” Sebastian says, downing the rest of his drink. “I don’t fancy going to another club though, I have another idea,”  
  
Lewis glances at the blonde carefully. “We’re not going to Pizza Hut again are we? That pizza was truly awful.”  
  
“No, do you fancy room service? My treat of course,” Sebastian says, smiling.  
  
Lewis finds himself nodding as he downs the rest of his drink and follows Sebastian out of the club. They end up in Sebastian’s hotel room perusing the menu for room service, both tangled together in Sebastian’s bed. Lewis tries to ignore the tingling warmth spreading over his body at Sebastian’s touch brushing against his skin.  
  
“You know I can’t eat that right?” Sebastian says, grinning widely as Lewis points to a large ice cream sundae.  
  
“We could go halfsies on it,” Lewis argues, feeling a little dizzy – apparently he must have had more to drink than he’d thought. “You can have churros on your own but you can’t have a sundae with me? It’s summer break anyway, you can eat what you want!”  
  
“Within reason,” Sebastian laughs. “I still need to fit in my Red Bull at the end of the break,”  
  
Lewis laughs as Sebastian orders the sundae anyway and they both share it, Lewis laughing as Sebastian smears his nose with chocolate sauce.

* * *

  
  
Things get back to normal in Belgium after their short summer break – Lewis has barely had what could be constituted as a break, he had a few days off to visit his family in amongst all of the press work and the interviews that flooded in over the break, of people suddenly eager to interview Sebastian about his potential to win the Championship and about his relationship with Mark.  
  
“So do you eat many churros whilst you were on holiday?” Lewis says as they make their way through the security, he holds his lanyard against the reader and it beeps.  
  
“Funnily enough, I behaved this break, I kept to my eating regime because it wasn’t worth breaking it for the sake of a few weeks, I might have had a sneaky bar of chocolate though,” He grins.  
   
Lewis feel a snort bubble up inside him. “More like a few bars,”  
  
“You know me well, Hamilton,” Sebastian says as he signs into the circuit. They both glance out of the windows at the grey clouds floating around ominously. “Looks like rain,” He says, quietly, his blue eyes focused on the sky.  
  
“They said that there may be a few showers this weekend,” Lewis says, glancing down at his app. “But don’t worry, you have lots of interviews to attend and do this weekend,”  
  
“Did you even have a break, Lewis?” Sebastian asks, raising his eyebrow.  
  
“I’m not answering that question,” Lewis replies, smiling.

* * *

  
  
The rain eventually does arrive during the free practise sessions and continues well into the Saturday of qualifying, making the sessions red-flagged as cars struggle on the partially drying track and the wet grass that marks out the racetrack of Spa-Francorchamps. The rain seems to dry out on the Sunday as the cars are assembled on track ready for the race – Lewis worries his lip as he stands nearby Sebastian’s car – his car in fourth position – listening to the blonde discuss a few last minute things with one of the interviewers before he slides into his car, the crew retiring to the garage to slide on their headphones and worry their lips ready for the start.  
Mark has a poor start, his engine defaults to an anti-stall setting, as he allows his engine revs to drop too low, leaving him in the middle of the pack as they all take off down to the first corner and Lewis lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding as Sebastian holds second.  
  
However, Sebastian’s hard work all comes to a halt as he watches Sebastian weaving around behind Jenson as they approach the Bus Stop chicane. He runs too deep into the corner and loses control of his car, the Red Bull snapping slightly to throw itself into a spin, smoke flying off the tyres, as his car speeds off down the track. Lewis watches with baited breath as the cameras land on Sebastian, on his navy gloves frantically trying to stop the car from hitting Jenson’s car or the tyre barrier. However, his inevitable trajectory is straight into the side of Jenson’s McLaren before his car snaps off to the left and into the run-off area. Lewis let out the sigh he didn’t realise he was holding as Sebastian rejoins the track where he left off, pressing down on the accelerator and the throttle as he eases his car back onto the wet tarmac.  
  
Lewis watches Sebastian come into the pits immediately, fixing his front wing and replacing his tyres before he’s on his way once more. However, his spirits are dampened by the news that the stewards are investigating the incident. With Jenson’s retirement, due to damage to his car, Sebastian is handed another drive through penalty which he takes without compliant and begins his rapid ascent back up the pecking order to where Nico is running the show out in first position.  
However, Sebastian undoes his hard work later in the race when he makes contact with Liuzzi to the Bus Stop chicane again and develops a slow puncture. Lewis watches, worrying one of his fingernails, his brown eyes focused on the screens before him, as he watches Sebastian nurse his car around the circuit before he can get his tyre replaced. He watches through the garage door, watches the blur of navy blue and red sweep into the area before the mechanics descend on it for a matter of seconds and he moves away, back into the arena to continue his fight.

* * *

  
  
“Fifteenth position, what happened out there, Sebastian?” One of the interviewers asks him critically, thrusting his microphone in the blonde’s face.  
  
“Well, I guess everything just went against me today didn’t it?” Sebastian’s voice sounds slightly wet as he pastes on a false smile for the cameras. “The rain certainly didn’t help, but I guess I just had a bad day and I’m sorry to all my team for letting them down-“  
  
Before Lewis even realises that he is doing it, he finds his hand curling around Sebastian’s as though to offer support. Sebastian glances down at him for a moment, concern brushing over his features, before he turns back to the camera. Sebastian’s fingers tighten around Lewis’s as he talks as though he’s seeking comfort. Lewis says nothing, however, he just smiles as he stands by Sebastian’s side, allowing the blonde’s thumb to brush over his hand.

* * *

  
  
Christian holds up the newspaper in front of Lewis and Sebastian the next morning, his face twisted in anger, his cheeks reddened with frustration. “So, would you both like to tell me the meaning of this?” He slams the paper down, allowing the two men to glance over the contents. There’s a photo of Sebastian standing doing press, Lewis is at his side, their hands are clearly clasped together on the image and the headline screams; _Caught Vettel Handed!_  
  
“So, start explaining why I’m getting tonnes of calls to my office asking if you’re willing to go on interview and talk about your sexuality-“  
  
“Look, I was upset after the race-“ Sebastian begins.  
  
“I was upset after the race, you don’t see me running over to shag Frank Williams,” Christian snaps.  
  
“I hardly think hand holding can be put in the same bracket as shagging Frank Williams,” Lewis says quietly.  
  
“It’s beside the point,” Christian yells out, tapping the paper. “We need to stop this right now,”  
  
“You’re implying that me holding hands with Lewis is a bad thing?” Sebastian says with narrowed eyes.  
  
Christian waves a hand. “I don’t care what you do in your personal life, hell, you could have a sex dungeon and be really into dressing up as a woman, I don’t care, but they do,” He says, looking at the papers. “And you have to be prepared for their questions,”  
  
“I am always prepared for their questions,” Sebastian says, folding his arms.  
  
“I don’t mean you, Seb, I mean Lewis. They’re going to want to know all about Lewis and his personal life, they’re probably digging up his details right now,”  
  
Lewis looks at Sebastian with trepidation.

* * *

  
  
The press do end up digging up his details before they even reach Italy – they even claim that Sebastian and Lewis go way back, they drag Lewis’s old karting history into everything, make out that they’ve been dating in secret for years and the only reason that Lewis is working for Sebastian’s press team and for Red Bull at all is because they’re fucking.  
  
“Just ignore the comments, I don’t read anything anymore about myself,” Sebastian says, sitting down next to Lewis, his blue eyes gazing over the newspapers spread out in front of him.  
  
“What am I supposed to do?” Lewis says, feeling the tears well up. “I’m not equipped to deal with these sort of affairs happening to me,”  
  
“I know,” Sebastian says gently.  
  
“I just…it’s hurtful you know? That they think that I’ve achieved everything in my life because of you, I don’t know if I can go out with you tomorrow and face all the questions,”  
  
“I’ve asked Christian to put out a statement telling the press that I will not be answering any personal questions tomorrow,” Sebastian says, moving closer to Lewis. He links their hands together again. Lewis looks down at their entwined fingers and laughs.  
  
“Who would have thought us doing this would have gotten us in so much trouble?”  
  
“I’d have found another way to get into trouble,” Sebastian says, squeezing Lewis’s hand.

* * *

  
  
Sebastian’s race is completely overshadowed in Italy by the press thinking that he’s sleeping with the man currently by his side. Sebastian had slipped Lewis a pair of sunglasses on the way out and Lewis had fixed the blonde with a puzzling look, but now they were outside amongst the press, the flashes from the cameras would have been unbearable without the glasses on his face.  
  
“Sebastian! Lewis! Can you tell us about what is happening?”  
  
Sebastian square his jaw. “We’re not discussing this right now, it’s not appropriate to the race,” He carefully guides Lewis past the paparazzi as the flashes follow them.

* * *

  
  
Lewis sits in the back of the garage trying to hide from the various members of press still trying to sneak into the back of the Red Bull garage. The race is over – Sebastian has ended up fourth and Lewis feels like he’s slightly to blame as he feels like Sebastian’s mind is elsewhere, worrying about the press hovering around the Red Bull garage. Sebastian doesn’t say much at the end of the race as Lewis prepares to follow him to the paddock. Sebastian’s hand falls onto Lewis’s shoulder.  
  
“Seb? What’s going on?”  
  
“I think it’s better for me to face the press alone,” Sebastian says, before he disappears without another word.  
  
Lewis waits for the blonde to reappear, he walks around, watching the mechanics carefully prepare to place the car back into storage ready to be taken to Singapore. He listens to the crowd slowly fading away as the Tifosi celebrate Fernando’s win.  
  
“Staying here on your own?” A familiar Australian voice pipes up.  
  
Lewis jolts at the sudden voice before he sees Mark leaning on the side of the garage. “Haven’t you got press duties to attend? Red Bull strategies to criticise?”  
  
Mark grins widely. “Oh, somebody has finally grown a backbone,”  
  
Lewis frowns. “Listen, I always had one-“  
  
“Right, when you were following Christian’s precious little golden boy around with you-“ Mark sneers. “You hiding in here from the little press boys? You’re pathetic and so is he for thinking that he can protect you, they’ve dug up your life, they know you are a nobody, that you’ve only got as far because of whose dick you suck-“ He’s cut off as Lewis’s hand slaps him across the face. Lewis looks shocked at his own actions, moving to withdraw his hand but Mark seizes him around the wrist.  
  
“You’re going to regret doing that, Lew-Lew,” Mark says, under his breath. “Never forget where you came from,”  
  
“Get off me,” Lewis snarls, his eyes dark with fury. “I swear to god-“  
  
“What are you going to do?” Mark spits back. “You’re nothing but a PA,”  
  
“And you’re nothing but a prick,” Lewis says, wrenching his wrist free.

* * *

  
  
Lewis stands before Sebastian, the tears streaking over his cheeks as Sebastian shakes his head, pacing in front of him. “What do you mean you quit? You can’t just quit when things get bad, Lewis,”  
  
“Look, I’ve put up with a lot in three years but I’m not having my hard work undermined because people think we’re fucking, I can’t deal with that-“ Lewis says, looking down at his feet.  
  
“But you can deal with anything-“ Sebastian whispers. “Lewis, please think about this, is this about the kiss? About not having any holidays? Because you can have all the holidays you want-“  
  
“No,” Lewis says quietly. “This is about me, I can’t cope with this job anymore. I can’t do my job properly and you need a press manager who can operate properly without any sort of emotional compromise,”  
  
Sebastian’s blue eyes burn into the older man. “But, I don’t want another press manager, Lewis, I need _you_ ,”  
  
“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” Lewis says as he walks away, swiping at the wetness running down his cheeks.

* * *

  
  
Lewis doesn’t go to Singapore – Christian emails him the timetable and Sebastian texts him the details of his flight but Lewis ignores them, he ignores everything – he daren’t even google his own name. Sebastian calls him when he doesn’t turn up on Friday. Lewis watches the practise sessions in his bed, Roscoe curled up next to him, his phone on mute. Sebastian calls in between sessions and leaves messages but Lewis can’t bring himself to listen to the German. He ignores Sebastian giving interviews to the BBC in the paddock, nobody by his side – he must have argued with Christian about going out without a PA to record everything he says. Lewis turns off the television and falls back against the pillow sighing.  
  
He doesn’t end up watching the race, he curls under the covers and watches some action film with Matt Damon in it but he can’t concentrate on the plot, he resists the urge to check his phone, to check on Sebastian’s progress. He ends up checking his voicemail halfway through the race to find a few messages from Sebastian.  
  
“Hello, Lewis, I’m at the airport and you’re not here, what’s going on? Please call me when you get this message, bye,”  
  
His heart jolts at the sound of his boss’s voice.  
  
“Lewis, what’s happening? It’s Friday and I’m supposed to be doing press in two hours and you’re not here,”  
  
“Lewis, please answer your phone, we need to talk about this, I don’t want anyone else as my PA, please call me when you get this, you’re better than this, I know you are,”  
  
“Lewis, please contact me, I don’t regret what I said – I really do need you,” Sebastian’s voice cracks. “Call me, please,”  
  
Lewis listens to every one before he sighs and presses delete on all the messages. He sinks back into the duvet, next to the slumbering Roscoe, wondering if he should start looking for another job. He feels his eyelids slowly begin to close as he drifts into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

  
  
When he wakes up, there’s one new message waiting on his voicemail from Sebastian.  
  
“Lewis, I came second in the race. I’m not sure if you care but I thought I’d let you know-“ He pauses for a moment, Lewis can hear the roar of the crowd around him, he must be walking to the press conference. “You can’t hide from me forever, Lewis, please contact me and let me know you’re alright, we need to talk,”  
  
The message ends and Lewis looks down at his phone. Worrying his lip, he plays the message again.

* * *

  
  
Lewis doesn’t fly out to Japan either, despite the email that Christian sends him, detailing his timetable and the emails that Sebastian sends containing a first class ticket to Japan. He ends up watching the Japan race at home, curled up on the sofa with Roscoe and a tub of Ben and Jerrys. He finds himself watching the free practise sessions, there’s nothing left for him to do. There’s no paperwork to sort out, no interviews to plan, Lewis has uploaded his CV to a few more places and started applying for new jobs. Lewis tries to keep himself busy throughout the weekend, he catches up on his shows on his Netflix account, he cleans his house and manages to file all his paperwork away. He watches Sebastian, hiding himself from the flashes with his mirrored sunglasses – he barely answers any questions, pasting on a smile that he knows is fake as he talks optimistically about his chances.  
Lewis feels the nausea rise over him as the spoon clatters into the ice cream carton. Roscoe glances at him with guilty eyes.  
  
“Don’t fucking say anything,” He tells the bulldog.  
  
Roscoe huffs and settles by his leg.

* * *

  
  
Sebastian wins the race. Lewis watches him on the podium with a wide smile on his face, spraying champagne over everyone, his overalls still wet with sweat and alcohol. Lewis longs to be with him, he knows he should be next to Sebastian, he should be supporting his boss and waiting to take him to the press conference and for his various interviews. He feels the guilt twist in his chest as he takes in the sight of Sebastian all alone in the paddock talking to the press, he hasn’t replaced Lewis – not yet anyway, Lewis has a feeling that Sebastian has told Christian that he’s taking a holiday – but Lewis feels awful watching Sebastian conduct his interviews all alone. He switches off the television and glances at Roscoe.  
  
“Do you mind if Uncle Nic watches you whilst I stop being an idiot?” Lewis asks the bulldog.  
  
Roscoe glances at him with big brown eyes.  
  
“I’m glad we agree on this,” Lewis says, smiling as he rubs the top of the dog’s head.

* * *

  
  
Lewis ends up booking his own ticket to Japan – he flies economy and ends up sleeping for most of the flight, leaning up against the window, his cap pulled over his head. He tries not to think about Sebastian, tries not to wonder if he’ll have a job anymore – if Sebastian will even want to see him. He ends up renting a car – some beat up Vauxhall that he knows Sebastian will laugh at as he glances at his phone, at the email with Sebastian’s flight and hotel information as he starts up the engine and begins driving, ignoring the twist of anxiety curling inside his chest. He texts Sebastian when he’s outside the hotel, asking for his room number.  
  
The reply is instantaneous.  
  
From: Sebastian  
Why do you need to know?  
  
Lewis taps back a quick answer. _I think you know why I need to know that, Seb.  
  
_ From: Sebastian  
Don’t be so cryptic, Lewis  
  
Lewis glances up at the hotel, looking at the lit windows, wondering if Sebastian is peering out of any of them. _Please, Seb, I’m here to talk.  
  
_ From: Sebastian  
Took your time. It’s room 45.

* * *

  
  
Sebastian opens the door with wide blue eyes. Lewis stands before him, worrying his lip.  
  
“Come in,” Sebastian says, standing to the side to allow for Lewis to step into the room.  
  
“Sebastian-“ Lewis begins, his eyes fearful.  
  
“Lewis, you’re a few days late for your press duties,” Sebastian says, his voice betraying not a shred of emotion.  
  
“I’m so sorry for everything, I guess you’ve got a new press officer now-“  
  
Sebastian shakes his head, the small smile curling over the corner of his mouth. “Why would I get a new press officer? I’ve got a perfectly fine one here,”  
  
“You’re not getting rid of me?” Lewis says, his brown eyes widening with shock.  
  
“Of course not,” Sebastian says quietly. “I told Christian that you were taking some well-deserved holiday, I guess, I wasn’t ready to admit that you’d leave me to sort out my own affairs-“  
  
“I’m so sorry for hiding, I just…I couldn’t deal with it,” Lewis says, looking down at his shoes.  
  
“I didn’t expect you to deal with it, Lewis,” Sebastian says, quietly. “I’m sorry that you thought you had to deal with this on your own, but I’m here-“ He steps forward, his arm brushing against Lewis’s. “I- I know that you feel like you’re dealing with this sudden interest in your life on your own and I’m sorry that they pulled up your entire personal life, but I’m here to support you,”  
  
“I know, I’m sorry I’ve been the shittiest PA known to man,” Lewis says, looking away. “I quit and you still didn’t believe me,”  
  
“Because I don’t want another PA, Lewis. I have one who is being a bit of an idiot right now, but I’d like him to join me in Korea,”  
  
“Do you always say things in this cryptic way?” Lewis says, finally feeling the tension ebb away. Sebastian’s hands are still curved around his arms.  
  
Sebastian smiles. “You know me well enough by now, besides, you missed my win and the champagne shower and then I had to do over thirty interviews without you,”  
  
“I’m sorry-“ Lewis bites his lip.  
  
“Hey,” Sebastian whispers, making Lewis glance up into his blue eyes. “Don’t be sorry, I kind of enjoyed them, they got sick of probing once I brought out the big guns,”  
  
“Did you tell them your favourite filling inside a doughnut again?” Lewis says.  
  
“Maybe,” Sebastian replies, winking.

* * *

  
  
The rain is heavy in Korea that weekend. Sebastian is sitting in pole position but there’s a lot of standing water on the track, the rain is still falling from the steel-grey clouds. Lewis watches from Sebastian’s side of the garage, worrying his lip as he watches the car makes a reconnaissance lap, the spray kicking up from the tyres looks worrying on the screen before him. They’re told that the race will be started via safety car and the cars begin to slide into their positions – Lewis keeps an eye on the navy blue Red Bull sitting at the front of the pack. His heart seems to beat against his chest as he watches the lights go out and the cars surge forward over the wet tarmac, their tyres whip the water around them as the cars seem to disappear going into the first corner. Lewis sends out a prayer for a safe race for everyone as they continue around the track behind the safety car.  However, after three laps, the rain continues and the race is postponed. Lewis watches as Sebastian is pushed back into the garage until the marshals remove some of the water from the track. He worries his lip as he watches Sebastian sit inside his car – in his focused driver mode – his helmet poking out of the cockpit.

* * *

  
  
However, Mark ends crashing out on the restart during the early stages of the race and Lewis’s chest tightens ever so slightly. He worries his lip as he watches Sebastian’s Red Bull carefully pick his way over the dampened tarmac, just behind the safety car. Lewis hates watching the cars fall behind the safety car, he hates his heart slamming against his chest as they prepare for the safety car to come in. He watches as the safety car leaves the circuit and the cars are able to race – Sebastian steaming ahead in his Red Bull, pulling away from the rest of the pack and from Alonso, his nearest challenger. Lewis feels his heart begin to calm as he watches the cars begin to settle into a pattern – Sebastian seems to take time off the fastest lap every time, beginning to pull a gap. Lewis smiles as he watches the navy Red Bull speed past the garages, water spraying up from the tyres.

* * *

  
  
However, by the forty-second lap, Alonso is beginning to reduce Sebastian’s lead, who is still at the front of the pack, holding the position perfectly. Lewis worries his lip as Alonso grabs the fastest lap of the race. He hates this middle section of the race, with the pit stops over and done with, waiting to see if Sebastian will hold his lead until the end of the race. However, within two laps, darkness begins to fall and Sebastian’s voice filters through the system.  
  
“I can’t see the braking point at turn one,” He says, his voice grainy over the vibrations of the car he's sitting in.  
  
Lewis feels his heart slam against his chest again as the cameras seem to focus on Sebastian for a moment – his navy blue Red Bull speeding through the corners easily, Fernando’s Ferrari at his heels. Lewis glances over at Christian and the team still sitting out in the booth – the team principal looks calm and collected as he speaks to Sebastian into his headset. Lewis doesn’t envy the older man – it can’t be an easy job sitting at the side of the pit wall, not in control of the cars that are speeding around the track.  
  
“I’ve lost half my engine capacity,” Sebastian’s voice filters down the microphone as he’s driving into turn seventeen on the fourty-fifth lap. “I can feel strong vibrations,”  
  
Christian seems more animated down at the pit wall, speaking into his microphone. Lewis worries his lap as they pass into the forty-sixth lap and Sebastian slows down, allowing Alonso to pass him around the inside and take the lead. Lewis feels the iron sit inside his stomach as Sebastian pulls into a gap at the main straight with smoke billowing in plumes from his engine. Lewis feels his heart sink as Rosberg passes him, followed by the rest of the pack and sighs heavily as he watches Sebastian climb out of his car, shaking his head slightly as he begins walking over to one of the gaps in the wall.

* * *

  
  
“Red Bull did more or less, a perfect job,” Sebastian says carefully, biting his lip as he plays with the cap of his water bottle. Lewis stands by his side with his sunglasses on, dictaphone and notepad in hand.  
  
“Fabrice Lom, the Renault engineer has apologised for your engine failure, does that make you feel any better about the result?”  
  
“Of course not,” Sebastian says, shaking his head. “I wanted to win the race and I firmly believe I would have won it had it not been for my engine failure. We were hoping to use that engine in future races, but obviously now, we cannot do that-“  
  
“Can you answer questions about your sexuality, Sebastian? Is that true that you and Lewis-“  
  
“I will not be answering any personal questions tonight,” Sebastian says, bluntly.  
  
“But, Sebastian, don’t you think that answering the rumours-“  
  
“Does who I shag affect my ability to drive a car or affect the engine in a way that makes it fail? I think not. Therefore, it’s not relevant to ask me questions about this,” Sebastian says with a tone of finality. Lewis resists the urge to smile as Sebastian gently wraps an hand around his arm, leading him away from the cameras and from the shouts.  
  
“You realise that they’re going to talk more now,” Lewis says,  
  
“Let them,” Sebastian says, glancing at Lewis through his sunglasses.  
  
“You know you’re already probably on the back pages anyway?” Lewis says, clicking off the dictaphone.  
  
“Look, my engine blew up, I needed to piss Christian off even more,” Sebastian says.

Lewis realises that his arm has moved to curl over his waist. He feels the warmth brush over his chest at the feeling of Sebastian’s arm around him, curved almost protectively. Sebastian doesn’t let go of his waist until they’re both back at the motorhomes for the team briefing.

* * *

  
  
Nico Hulkenberg takes surprise pole position in Brazil, ahead of Sebastian and Mark who have been dominating the free practise sessions up until that point. However, with a drying track – everyone rushes to replace their intermediate tyres with slicks, leading to a rather mixed starting grid. Sebastian is beaten by the slimmest of margins but he appears in a bright mood as he gives a few brief interviews to the press standing around – he seems optimistic about his chances of getting one over on Hulkenberg as they go into the first corner.

* * *

  
  
Sebastian slams on his brakes and storms into the lead as they duck into the first corner and the garage around Lewis explodes into cheers. They watch as Mark manages to slide past Hulkenberg with ease, hearing an identical cheer rise up from the opposite side of the garage. However, as the tyres begin to bed in and the race begins to settle, Sebastian begins to pull a gap to his teammate almost immediately. Lewis ends up collapsing into one of the chairs to watch the race, his eyes flickering to where Christian is sitting with his team, with Sebastian’s statistics flying onto the screen every few seconds. The race is a straightforward one for Sebastian – he drives perfectly, the pit-stop is timed to perfection and he slides out, behind Mark who is due a pit stop, on his brand new tyres, moving to put some time between them. Sebastian ends up crossing over the line in first position and moving up the Championship rankings – inching ever closer to the title that he wants and craves. Lewis feels himself scream out as Sebastian crosses the line, jumping up and down on the soles of his feet as he watches Sebastian raise a gloved hand out of the cockpit.

* * *

  
  
“You did it,” Lewis whispers as he catches Sebastian just before he goes into the holding room, ready to collect his trophy. “You did it,” He says again as he launches himself at the blonde. Sebastian looks surprised for a moment as his arms curl around Lewis’s waist, Lewis tries not to glance into the pale blue eyes, his hands pressing against the sweaty chest of Sebastian’s race suit.  
  
“You’re sweaty-“ Lewis says, glancing up to meet Sebastian’s blue eyes.  
  
“That’s what happens when you sit in a car for two hours, Lew,” Sebastian says, smiling down at the shorter man. Lewis opens his mouth to argue with the blonde but finds no words come out. He just looks at Sebastian for a moment, looks at the tiny mole on the side of the man’s nose, at the scar above the top of his lips. Lewis finds himself licking his own lips, remembering what Sebastian’s felt like against his own, how soft they were, how his tongue tasted of fresh mint. Lewis exhales slowly as he glances into Sebastian’s eyes – he never noticed there was a small dark blue ring around them.  
  
“Seb, I-“ He begins as Sebastian leans in closer, his breath ghosting over Lewis’s lips. Lewis feels his eyes close and their lips are just about to meet when a familiar voice pipes up.  
  
“Oi, lovebirds,” Mark pushes past Sebastian with a wide smirk on his face. “Haven’t we got a press conference to go to?” His dark eyes fall on Lewis. “I think you’re in enough trouble with the boss without holding up his golden boy from answering any more questions,”  
  
Sebastian levels the retreating Australian’s back with a murderous look.  
  
“Seb, just leave him-“ Lewis pleads, glancing at the pale blue eyes. “Besides, the people want to see their race winner,”  
   
Sebastian grins at him widely.

* * *

  
  
Lewis watches the interview on one of the big screens as he smooths down his hair ready to go out into the paddock with Sebastian for his after-race interviews. He smiles at the blonde on the screen before him, looking pleased with himself. He seems to be behaving himself for now, answering the questions with short answers and a wide smile. Lewis finds himself making a cup of tea whilst he waits – he anticipates that Sebastian will be in there for another fifteen minutes – plenty of time for him to make and drink some tea. He’s just put the milk into the cup when he hears his own name.  
  
“So would you answer the rumours that you’re in a relationship with your PA, Lewis Hamilton? Are you gay, Sebastian?”  
  
Sebastian glances at the man for a moment with a level look. Lewis lifts the cup up into his hand and sips from it quickly, cursing at the warmth burning his mouth.  
  
“I’m not gay but I refuse to hide what I truly am. I am bisexual and I don’t think that this hinders my ability to drive my car, nor has it anything to do with why my engine failed. I find it highly appropriate that you would assume that I am in a relationship with someone I work with, somebody who I respect and whose life you have dragged through the mud for your own ends. So to answer your question, I am not in a relationship with Lewis Hamilton and even if I was, I would be none of your business nor would it be anyone else’s if I were, end of question,”  
  
Lewis drops his cup of tea and curses loudly under his breath.  
  
“What have you done, Sebastian?” He whispers, brushing a hand through his hair as he thinks about how to figure out his PR nightmare.

* * *

  
  
 “What were you thinking, Seb?” Lewis says as Sebastian enters the motorhome to quickly change into one of his Red Bull shirts. He tries not to glance over the expanse of pale back facing away from him, the dimples in the small of Sebastian’s back begging to be touched.  
  
“I don’t know…” Sebastian’s voice is muffled as he pulls on the t-shirt. “I was tired of pretending, I was tired of pretending that I was straight, that I didn’t…feel these things for you-“ He glances away.  
  
Lewis brushes a hand over his face, knocking his glasses. “Without my permission and not thinking about the implications of that – Christian is going to have my arse, I might as well hand in my resignation letter right now-“  
  
Sebastian seizes Lewis’s wrist, his thumb brushing over the dark skin. “What resignation letter? What are you talking about?”  
  
“I wrote a resignation letter ages ago – just in case I needed to quit-“ Lewis says, looking down at his shoes.  
  
“Why would you need to quit?” Sebastian says softly. “Is it something I did?”  
  
“I can’t do my job properly when people think we’re fucking against the chassis of your car,” Lewis says, finally meeting pale blue eyes. “I need to know that I can do my job properly,”  
  
“You can, Lew-“ Sebastian replies. “Listen, if you never want me to tell about these feelings, if you want me to bury them, then that’s fine, just tell me-“ He moves closer to Lewis, their eyes locking together. “Tell me that you don’t want this, that you don’t want to try-“  
  
Lewis feels the words die out on his tongue as Sebastian inches closer, searching for any resistance in the brown eyes before him. “Please, Lew, just tell me to fuck off, tell me that you don’t feel it too-“ He moves in closer, his breath brushing over Lewis’s lips.  
  
“Lew,” Sebastian whispers, capturing their lips together, his hands fisting into the thick dark curls at the nape of Lewis’s neck, the other twisting around the chunky cardigan that the man is wearing, smiling at the gasp of air that passes over his lips. Lewis’s lips mould against his own, like they belong there – they’re warm and wet, passing over his own for a moment. Sebastian moans against the kiss, feeling the warmth ghost over his upper thighs as he moves closer to Lewis, drinking the older man in, his lips stroking over every inch of Lewis. However, the spell seems to break as Lewis’s eyes widen and he pushes himself away from Sebastian, wrenching his lips away.  
  
“We can’t-“ Lewis whispers between swollen lips. “You’re my _boss_ -“  
  
However, before Sebastian can remark that he doesn’t care about that, Lewis has disappeared.  


* * *

  
  
Abu Dhabi can’t come soon enough for Sebastian – he feels bittersweet about it; it’s the last race for a while and he’s going to miss driving around the world every other weekend but the tiredness is beginning to overwhelm him and he can’t wait to take a well-deserved break. He sighs heavily as he glances over the paddock, looking for a familiar man with glasses and a Red Bull shirt on. He hasn’t heard from Lewis since that night, only a short text telling him that he was back in Geneva sorting out the press fall-out that had occurred. Sebastian felt too guilty to reply to the message. He had sent the plane ticket to Lewis’s email as always with a small message underneath.  
  
It’s my last race. I’d like you to be there.

* * *

  
  
The free practises and qualifying seem to past in a blur for Sebastian; Lewis doesn’t seem to have turned up and Christian seems to have organised more press interviews than Sebastian thought possible. Sebastian figures that it’s punishment for talking about his sexuality during his winner’s interview but it was worth it; to feel free, to not feel like he was hiding behind a mask anymore. They’re curious, of course, the press seem to know why Lewis isn’t by Sebastian’s side – but Sebastian feigns illness, dismissing their claims and stating that his sexuality has nothing to do with the outcome of the race. He thinks about the trophy, he thinks about finally winning the title, lifting it above his head as the fireworks shower over the dark sky. He thinks about doing it without Lewis by his side and the nausea rises up inside him.

* * *

  
  
Lewis hides in the back of the garage – he waits until Sebastian is out on the grid before he slides on his headphones and stays in the corner, his eyes on the screen. He was going to stay in Geneva but it’s the last race of the season and it’s one that Sebastian could win and potentially become the youngest ever champion in the history of Formula One. Lewis swallows down the nausea as he watches the cars do their reconnaissance lap, swerving over the dark tarmac, the chassis’ shine under the bright lights. Lewis pulls his hoodie tighter around himself, worrying his lip as the cars filter back into position, his brown eyes on the navy Red Bull out in front. He can barely look at the screen as the lights begin to go out, the engines roar into life. His eyes barely take in as Sebastian’s Red Bull speeds up to the first corner, still in front, Nico’s silver McLaren hot on his gearbox.

* * *

  
  
Sebastian wins the race – he wins the Championship. He’s won the Championship – he doesn’t hit him until he’s crossed the finish line and the fireworks are lighting up the sky in bright colours.  
  
“Congratulations, Sebastian, or should I say, new World Champion?” Rocky’s voice sounds out, tinny on the radio.  
  
Sebastian feels his fingers tighten on the steering wheel as he continues to drive around the track, his heart hammering in his chest, his ache fading away from his bones as the adrenaline washes over his body. He feels his heart thunder in his chest as he yells into the radio, not caring that it will probably be broadcast all around the world. He wonders if Lewis is listening in, if he’s in the garage, if he’s back home with Roscoe in Geneva. He continues driving around the track, waving to the screaming fans as he tries to process the information – he’s the new World Champion. He’s going to pick up the huge trophy, his name will be written into the Formula One history books. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he hears Christian come onto the radio and congratulate him.  
  
“Thank you,” He whispers, hardly able to get any words out. “I don’t know what to say, I just…danke, danke for the most amazing car and the most amazing opportunity,”  
  
Everything else seems a blur as he stops out in parc ferme, his car gleaming under the lights. Somebody hands him a German flag which he wraps around his shoulders, everyone is shouting his name – his team, the press, everyone – the flashes are almost unbearable but he smiles widely as he lifts the flag above his head, feeling the sweat beginning to dry against his hair.  
  
The interviews seem to blur into one another, the smiling faces of people instantly forgotten, his overalls still wet with champagne, his hair matted with sweat. He barely remembers the celebration ceremony, the trophy still cold in his hands, his hands brushing over the metal, over the silver as he glances up at the German flag behind him, tears glittering in his eyes. He seems to be bundled into an interview immediately afterwards and sits in his champagne-covered overalls been asked question after question about how he is feeling. The words seem to rumble off his tongue and the flashes seem to go on and on. Sebastian thinks of nothing but the trophy in front of him, of seeing Lewis’s face when he shows him the trophy.

* * *

  
  
He finds himself out in the paddock, holding onto his trophy, the flag still draped across his shoulders, the flashes still going off before him, people still calling his name but he spots a familiar face in the crowd, a familiar face with dark skin, glasses and a wide smile.  
  
“Lewis!” He yells out, his voice hoarse as he moves through the crowd towards where he is certain Lewis is standing. His blue eyes meet brown ones, everything seems to go quiet around them. Lewis is staring wide-eyed at Sebastian, almost as though he’s glancing at his own visage. “Lewis, you’re here,” Sebastian whispers, moving closer to the Brit.  
  
“I’m here,” Lewis whispers, biting his lip. “Congratulations,” He says, nodding to the trophy. “I always knew that you could do it,”  
  
“That doesn’t matter now," Sebastian says, pulling Lewis closer to him, glancing into the beautiful brown eyes once more. “I can’t believe you’re here,”  
  
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Lewis whispers, his breath ghosting over Sebastian’s lips as the blonde leans in, fisting Lewis’s t-shirt in one hand, his trophy glinting proudly in the other as their lips connect and brush against each other. Sebastian whines against Lewis’s lips as they both dance over each other, Lewis’s hand moves to grasp at Sebastian’s sweaty overalls, pulling him closer as their lips move over each other, Sebastian’s tongue brushes over Lewis’s mouth – Lewis allows Sebastian’s tongue to slide in and gently dance over his own, he tastes of salt and slightly of mints – Lewis thinks in that moment, before Sebastian pulls away gently, a smile curving to his lips as he moves away, unable to take his eyes off Lewis. The kiss seems to have lasted forever, time seemed to have stopped in that moment, yet the flashes and shouts still continue. Lewis glances down and realises that Sebastian’s trophy is still tucked between them, the German flag wrapped around them both.  
  
“I shouldn’t have done that, the press-“ Sebastian says, signalling to all the cameras flashing around them.  
  
“That’s nothing I can’t sort out,” Lewis says, grinning widely as he grasps Sebastian’s hand in his own. “I am the best PA after all,” He squeezes Sebastian’s fingers and the blonde smiles back at him.  
  
"I think it's time we had a long holiday," Sebastian says, looking down at their entwined hands and smiling. "Just the two of us,"


End file.
